


show me you'll stay

by thalassashells



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gay healing, Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Character, Other, Vaginal Sex, angst i guess. and dramatic irony, everyone in sid's life wishes he would stop going out and almost dying, its vanilla because im wounded right now. ok. god.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 18:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19873846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalassashells/pseuds/thalassashells
Summary: When you're falling apart at the seams, who else will make you whole again?





	show me you'll stay

"Oh, you owe me," Fray hisses, struggling to tear away Sidurgu's bloodsoaked shirt so they can begin to heal the shredded skin and bloody muscle beneath, "You owe me a thousand times over for this stunt, Orl."

"It wasn't, " Sidurgu groans from where he lies face down on the floor, though he can hardly see and hardly hear, "a stunt."  
\--

They were right, of course. It was a stunt. He'd gone out with only his cloak and a dagger strapped to his hip, insistent that no patrols would take note of him so deep in the night. The cover of fog and snow had been heavy to boot, and all he needed was to relieve a few merchants of their goods and hurry home.

Fray had stayed behind to watch Rielle, who was now sound asleep. One of them always had to stay behind now. It terrified them both to go alone, without the other watching every step or Ompagne's solid frame as a defense against the bitter streets. If there would ever be an easy realignment of how things worked in their home without their master, it had not come yet.

So, naturally, he picked that night to get in a fight.

He could not well have ignored it. The young woman could scarcely have seen her twentieth summer, carrying a basket of bread he'd watched her pay for in coppers and trying to get home in the snow. A fresh faced knight with wine-reddened cheeks stopped her at the gates of the Crozier with his hand on the hilt of his sword, and Sidurgu did something very stupid.

She got away with her bread, unsure if she was more fearful of the knight who stopped her or the horned beast of a man who'd barreled into him, and Sid got away with knock to the head and a gash in his his back that trailed from his shoulder to his hip. The knight limped away with his tail between his legs and tears in his eyes, like the young ones always do.

Even with the wound tearing through his thoughts he thinks the same prayer to Halone that he always does after an encounter like this: for the girl's safety and the man's damnation to never walk Her halls.

By the time he'd stumbled home his cloak had nearly soaked through with blood and his head was light and dizzy.

Fray was furious.

He asked why. He'd gotten the food, after all. He then promptly hit the floor, and has only just awoken in his own bed.

\--

Fray is seated next to him, staring holes in his body, checking with every minuscule movement that he still draws breath. As soon as they see him stir, they reach out to touch his face, cupping it in their hands.

"You're awake. Do you understand me?" They ask, not waiting for his head to clear. They're only checking for a concussion, but they could use some bedside manner.

"Aye. And I know what day it is." He groans, screwing his eyes shut. Behind his right horn was a swelling that thumped all through his skull as he first tries to move, only settling as he shoves himself upright.

Fray scoffs and crawls wordlessly into the bed beside him to inspect his ruined back. The brunt of it was healed, but Fray's aether shuddered and ran dry from the effort of stitching him back together. They draw a line down the site of the wound – their hand is trembling in the way of someone who's eaten too little, but Sid recognizes aetheric exhaustion when he sees it.

"It's going to scar. There's nothing I can do about that." They start, "And your scales will be ugly as sin until your next molt. Nothing I can do about that, either."

Sidurgu knows this routine by now – Fray is recounting the damage as a warning to him and as admonishment to themself. They could save him a dozen times in a day and still find somewhere that they fell short. Something they couldn't do. Sid wonders if it's his fault for finding new ways to almost die every time he leaves home, forcing Fray to keep up with his recklessness – but who else could he trust for just that reason?

Still their hands wander his back, peeling away tiny pieces of loose scale-skin and smoothing down the raised edges of his newly forming scar, pushing any remaining reserves of aether into the tissue to reduce the swelling.

"I can feel your hands shaking, Fray. Stop casting." He turns his head, easier this time, to see their brow furrowed and their eyes glistening. He can't tell in this light if those are tears forming in the corners of their angry eyes or just a trick of the light, but a twinge runs through his chest all the same.

"Fray..." He reaches over his shoulder to catch their hand and hold it there.

"Don't 'Fray' me." They choke out in the hoarse voice of someone refusing to let tears take them, "Just tell me what happened."

He sighs, "There was a girl. She needed to get home. I knocked some sense into new recruit"

Fray rests their forehead against his back. The motions of the defeated, one who couldn't argue that they wouldn't do the same.

"Would it kill you to be more careful?" They say against his skin, their hand sliding down his bare side, resting on his hip.

The silence grows thick in an instant. Was he not as careful as he could be? It was the world that converged on him, not his lack of preparation.

Sidurgu grits his teeth and turns to face them, "We didn't choose this life to cower-"

"We didn't choose it to die young, Sid!" Fray's head shoots up and they jab a finger into the tender flesh of his shoulder. He flinches and Fray immediately withdraws, turning their outburst to clenching their own fist.

"And I have not!" He scoffs in return, "What in the hells is wrong with you? Afraid of something like this?"

"You dense bastard..." Their voice cracks, "You're going to walk out that door one of these days and... Aye, I'll forgive a scrape, I'll forgive a bloody limb, but if you don't come home to me-if you don't come home to her-"

Sidurgu's eyes are wide and his mouth stiff and still as Fray takes a deep breath, tries once more and unsuccessfully to choke back the tears. They weep silently as they always have, tears welling up and rolling over only when they cannot help but blink them away. Sidurgu's stomach churns though he weeps not at all, the tears locked with shame that made his body burn even beyond his healing wounds.

"Well?" They rasp as he continues to stare.

He reaches to cup the side of their face in his hand, their cheeks hot with rage and stained with salt, and uses his thumb to wipe a new line of tears away as it falls. They place their hand over his and hold it so tightly they leave white imprints of their nails in his skin.

"I..." He swallows, leans forward and kisses away the wetness welling beneath their other eye, "I'm sorry."

He expects them to jerk away, or snap again, but all they do is throw themself forward into his arms and cling to him in a vice grip. He hugs them back, tight, tight against his chest until there's no space left between them. Burying his nose in their hair he mutters his promise, just to them, just to the tiny space between his mouth and their ear where none other could take it.

When they pull back he kisses them again, tasting the salt on their lips as well.

They push back with a crushing force, catching his lips in a long and feverish connection, their desperation written in every movement. He aims to kiss the little scar that runs through their upper lip, drawing a harsh, muffled noise from them. When they part it is with reluctance, their chests heaving against each other as they gasp for breath.

"Show me you'll stay." They say with their brow knit and their expression hard. To any other Fray's pleading would read only as a demand – but Sid knows better than that.

Pressing his forehead to theirs, he whispers: "If you'll only show me the same."

They thread their fingers up through Sidurgu's hair, pressing gently behind the tiny horns on the back of his head in the way that makes him shiver. The answer is clear as day.

There is no stagnation in the patterns they've formed with each other. The ease with which Sidurgu can find the spot at the base of Fray's spine that makes them arch into him is only invigorating, as is Fray's perfect gauge for just how hard to graze their teeth over Sidurgu's horn to make him groan.

Sidurgu loses his clothes first. Fray's warm lips on his bare chest cloud his head as they work his trousers from his wide hips, leaving him only in underthings that were growing too tight by the moment. The drag of their tongue up the rough scales on his pecs did him no favors.

If Sidurgu knew no better, he would assume they were starved from their heavy, desperate movements. The mapping of every inch of him spoke to their need to keep him, to be sure that in one way or another he would never leave their hands. So they trace his scars and kiss his burns open mouthed, new scrapes and old each receiving the same show of ardor.

When they lean away from him at last he wonders how he must look: leaned back on his hands, his underthings stained with leakage from his cock beneath, flushed red from his cheeks to his chest. Their mouth hangs open, their gaze hungry and intent.

Finally, he takes his chance to get them out of the heavy woven shirt they wore that obscured the shape of their body. It was one of their favorites for that reason. Sidurgu knows, looking into their sharp eyes, what he is being granted every time they are lain bare before him.

They gasp when he takes their breasts in his large hands, thumbs rolling over their sensitive nipples. Sidurgu's movements have always been ungainly beyond his swordplay, but Fray never seemed to mind his eager roughness. The shaky pressure made them sigh all the same when he trails his claws down their belly to tease at the waist of their pants before pulling them away.

Fray takes Sidurgu by the shoulders and pulls them both down in a heap with him lying atop them, face to face.

"Take me." They say, pressing a kiss to his lips.

No matter how many times they say it he never grows used to the feeling. His heart jumps, his stomach grows hot, and he's struck silent. So instead he nods dumbly, briefly disentangling their bodies to pull the interfering underwear off the both of them.

Fray shudders and digs their nails into his shoulders when he reaches down between their legs and experimentally runs a finger through their folds. Further probing buys him an open moan, and further yet brings a soft cry as he slowly slides one finger inside of them. Their face is a marvel, open mouthed and turned to the side with their eyes screwed shut as he begins to pump his finger, adding another one when they beg for yet more.

"Sid," They gasp between trembling breaths, looking up at him with hazy eyes, "Sid, I need you in me."

He's more than relieved to hear it, his cock aching and neglected where it hung between them, just brushing their inner thigh and leaving smears of pre where it lay.

"I need you too, " He says, finding his voice weaker than he expected, "Gods, I do."

"Then hurry up." They squirm underneath him, rolling their hips against his fingers for more, more, more.

He removes his hand – Fray whimpers – and he pulls their legs apart and up around his waist. They always seem so small like this, clung to his wider and taller frame, all of the rage and fury that made them stand tall in the outside world melted away.

Fray's voice cracks as he slowly pushes in, bringing one hand down to cover their mouth on instinct. He gently pulls their hand away to watch their face, pinning it to the bed next to them the way they like. The way he likes, as well, should he ever like to admit it.

With the first roll of his hips Fray's eyes go bright, their own hips rising to take him as deep as they can. He fucks slowly and steadily into them, his own body addled with the pleasure of being surrounded, hot and slick.

"Sid, I - " Fray whines, using their legs to pull him in deeper, faster, "I love you, I love you – I'm going to --"

"Please," Sidurgu gasps out, reaching down between them to press a thumb to their hard clit, "Please, I want to feel you."

They babble incoherent pleas and cries of Sidurgu's name as they tighten around him in climax, the arm they have slung around his shoulder gripping fiercely all the way through.

Sidurgu is not long after them, his thrusts growing erratic and moisture catching on his eyelashes as he loses himself in them, pressed chest to chest.

And there they lie for as long as they can, pressed together at every juncture, held fast in each other's arms.

"I'm yours." whispers Sidurgu, kissing them once more.

Fray strokes his cheek with a shaking hand, "And I am yours."


End file.
